


A Matter of Trust

by ziskandra



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Kink Negotiation, Pegging, Pillow Talk, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27489577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziskandra/pseuds/ziskandra
Summary: A line in Varric's most recent romance serial,Holed Up in Skyhold, provides Cassandra with a new idea for their lovemaking.If only she knew how to bring it up with him.
Relationships: Cassandra Pentaghast/Varric Tethras
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47
Collections: 2020 A Paragon of Their Kind Dragon Age Dwarf Exchange





	A Matter of Trust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enigmalea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmalea/gifts).



The idea came to her like it ordinarily did: from a throwaway line in one of Varric’s books. She’d heard whispers about the act before, of course, from fellow soldiers in past barracks and bawdy drunken tavern conversations. She’d always tried hard not to listen, had so frequently turned her head away as though her face was burning.

But after reading her lover’s most recent romance serial, _Holed Up in Skyhold,_ Cassandra couldn’t get the thought out of her head. There was something alluring about being the one in power. Not that she didn’t ordinarily take control in the bedroom, but she was rather enamoured with the image of Varric being full with _her_ instead of the other way around. She knew he was not opposed to simulation in such a sensitive area: several months ago, she had first pressed a finger inside him after being similarly inspired by some of his writings. And Sweet Andraste, the _noises_ he’d made! It still made her heat up just thinking about it now, stomach twisting in dual anxiety and excitement.

Such activities had become a common part of their lovemaking in the weeks that followed, and Varric had certainly made no complaints. If anything, his comments had been highly complimentary, for he chattered incessantly in the bedroom as he did in most other areas of life. She had grown to find it endearing, and even managed to tell him so, sometimes.

So why was she so self-conscious about bringing up this new idea with him? The worst he could say was no, that it was of no interest to him… but the more she thought about it, the more she realised that wasn’t the worst of it at all. What if he didn’t understand why the idea appealed to her? What if he found her desires unbecoming?

It was all she could do to not send herself into a state as she rode closer and closer to Kirkwall. Perhaps she was simply overthinking it all, perhaps their month apart had led her to feel insecure in their relationship. She’d always known that in a perfect world, she’d prefer to be the type of woman to keep her beloved close at hand. But Thedas was nowhere near perfect, no matter how hard she might try. At least there was no small degree of romance to the notion of a couple separated by distance and duty. If the heroines in Varric’s novels could persevere, then so too could she.

Heart hammering wildly as she passed through the city gates, she made her way up higher and higher until the Viscount’s – _Varric_ ’s _–_ keep was in her sights. Andraste preserve her, but she would never be a city person. At the end of the day, it was just another factor keeping her and her lover apart. To think the last time she’d been here, she’d left the city with Varric bound in ropes, preventing him from escaping, at least before they got to the ship.

It was in an entirely different context that ropes play a role in their life now. Wasn’t it funny how a few scant years could have such an effect on a person, on _people_ , on the very world itself?

Before she could even check upon Varric in his office, she was interrupted by his seneschal, a dour-looking man with a pinched face who always gave off the faint impression of nursing a headache. She doubted working for Varric would have helped alleviate his pains any. He didn’t appear to recognise her at first, puffing himself up as though he was some manner of lizard, but as she drew closer like a large cat hunting its unsuspecting prey, his eyes flashed in recognition.

“Lady Cassandra—” he started, but she interrupted him with an aggressive wave of the hand.

“I’ve told you not to call me that,” she said.

He nodded eagerly, glad to be given the chance to rectify his mistake. “Cassandra,” he corrected, and it was all she could do not to smile and tell him _better_. “If you’re looking for the viscount, I do believe he’s in his office.”

She could have surmised that herself, had she been given the chance to look. Taking a deep breath, she did her best to force herself to relax. It wasn’t fair to take out her frustrations on this seneschal, whose name she could never remember. It was Varric she needed to speak with, and ultimately, it was herself she was angry with the most.

Stalking further down the north wing with her shoulders squared, everyone else she encountered gave Cassandra a wide path. It was as though now she had the seneschal’s reluctant approval, she had full run of the keep. 

When she reached Varric’s office, she didn’t even bother to knock. If he was in an important meeting, then she knew he would be grateful for the interruption. But there were no voices, subdued or otherwise, chattering behind the door, there was only Varric, looking strangely regal with the crown upon his head, weighed down with all the obligations and responsibilities of ruling a city. The sunlight streaming through the window illuminated his hair just so, both that on his head and also that which carpeted his chest.

He was so handsome, and he was _hers_.

Cassandra both loved and loathed Varric’s fondness for low-cut shirts. Not that she’d ever talk him out of wearing them. She knew a losing battle where she saw one.

Varric looked up from the parchment on his desk, and where she ordinarily might have stopped to wonder if he was busying himself with paperwork or perhaps even working on the next instalment of his novel, there was no time for rational thought today. Fear and purpose propelled her forward as it so often did, and she marched towards his desk, grabbed his shoulders, and half-lifted him to meet her halfway as she pulled him into a hungry kiss.

Maker, she had _missed_ him.

It was an unfortunate fact of life that they would need to break for air eventually, and when they parted, Cassandra found Varric staring at her incredulously. At first, she worried it was fear, but as the smile spread across his face, she realised he was happy to see her, too. “Well, hello there,” he said, affecting his usual drawl, which would had been more successful in the corner of his mouth was still not curled so carefully upwards. “Copper for your thoughts?”

True to form, Cassandra hadn’t thought in great detail about how she would bring the topic up with him. That wasn’t to say she hadn’t considered it deeply, simply that she hadn’t thought about her approach. She was far better at wielding a sword than using her words, but she figured she simply couldn’t surprise him with a spare phallus during their next lovemaking session, even if it would make everything easier. But being asked directly threw her for a loop, and the words spilled out of her before she could quite stop herself.

“Page 58 of _Holed Up in Skyhold_ ,” said Cassandra.

“What—” Varric started, but he cut himself off as realisation dawned upon him. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Oh. Heh. You – you picked up on that one, did you?”

It was Cassandra’s turn to be surprised. What did he mean, she’d –

Oh. 

The dwarf had done this on _purpose._

If it was earlier on in their relationship, she might’ve thought he was mocking her. Part of her feared he might still be. For what purpose, she did not know, but in the past it had felt like Varric had sometimes made fun of her simply for entertainment. It was only over the course of their relationship had she started to learn they disguised their vulnerabilities in the very same way.

She played through the scene again in her mind. A minor character by the name of Fonnek had expressed to a friend that he wanted to feel his wife inside him but hadn’t known where to get the necessary equipment. Perhaps a cucumber had been brought up as a possibility, and potentially an aubergine, but they’d been summarily disregarded. Cassandra would have dismissed such a ludicrous suggestion, too.

No. If they were to do this, then would do it _properly._ She swallowed thickly, steeled her resolve, and quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t suppose _you_ know where to find the necessary equipment,” she started, and Varric laughed, delighted.

“Oh, I do. And I'm going to take that as a yes,” he said, before standing on his chair to pull her into another kiss.

*

It was several more months before they had the chance to act upon their desires. Varric had suggested importing the required tools from Orlais, because they had the largest market for such goods, outside of the Imperium. _I’m sorry, Seeker_ , he’d said, with that sad wistful tone of his he used whenever he wanted to rile her up on purpose, coupled with the use of her title, _but sex aids are somewhere in the middle of the list of essential goods for the city’s harbour revitalisation efforts._

Now that they had actually discussed the topic, though, Cassandra found she could be patient, and she threw herself into her work as she so often did, back into the rest of the Free Marches to chase down another lead on a surviving Seeker.

Bearing down upon the city’s gates once more only served to remind Cassandra of the last time she had visited Kirkwall, but this time, instead of apprehension in her blood, it was excitement. She was uncertain what Varric had in store precisely, only that he’d alluded to preparations, and that this time, he’d mercifully make sure his seneschal stayed out of her way.

True to Varric’s word, when she marched into his estate this time around, the man (what was his name again? Ben? Bann? Wasn’t that a rank of Fereldan nobility?) gave her a wide berth, although she could still feel the weight of his gaze upon her retreating back. She would not let it bother her. Let him stare.

She almost forgot to ensure that Varric wasn’t in a meeting when she slammed the door to his office behind her. As it was, she only took the briefest stock of the room (empty, locked) before she was closing the gap between them, striding purposefully towards his desk. Varric barely had time to look up from the pile of parchment in front of him before Cassandra grabbed him by the front of the shirt to pull him into a needy, desperate kiss. The rumble of surprise and contentment that escaped Varric’s throat sent a sharp shock of arousal straight to her gut.

Varric raised a knee onto his desk to help support his weight, and she felt his hands run through her hair, gently tugging her scalp. Too soon, they needed to break for air, an unfortunate reality of being alive. There was a sparkle in Varric’s eyes as he nudged Cassandra’s nose with his own.

“Miss me?” he asked.

She felt the sides of her face burn as she answered, “Shut up.”

“Hmm,” Varric murmured, his lips tracing a line down the sensitive skin of her neck. With the additional height the desk afforded him, he could more easily reach all the spots that made her blood roar. “I thought you liked it when I waggle my tongue.”

“And _I_ thought I told you to stop talking,” she answered, half-hoping a hole would open up and swallow her into the ground, keeping her away from Varric until she had regained some level of restraint. Andraste preserve her, but she wanted nothing more to strip him down where he stood and have her way with him.

One of Varric’s wide, warm hands shifted so it was cupping her breast. The layers of clothing she was wearing felt like nothing at all. “Oh?” he murmured, peppering her throat with soft kisses as his thumb brushed above her nipple, the pressure maddeningly soft. “You don’t want me to show you your present?”

She almost told him to shut up again. It was a force of habit. Fortunately, her mind finally caught up with what she was hearing, and she managed to bite her tongue. Not too hard, however, for the next words spilled out of her anyway, hopeful and cautious in equal measure. “You did?”

Varric was strangely silent for once as he shuffled back down, reached into a drawer and placed a smooth, wooden box onto the desk. Cassandra grasped for it with greedy fingers, barely taking the time to admire the fine grain of the wood before unclasping the box and inspecting what lay inside. “Oh,” she started, not sure what words should be expected of her at this juncture. “It’s larger than I thought it would be.”

A chuckle escaped Varric’s throat, low and rumbling in that way that both aroused and vexed Cassandra. “Larger than mine, right?” he asked, lips curling upwards at the corner of his mouth.

She wouldn’t have said it herself, but she had been thinking it, so instead, she nodded mutely. Without any further ado, reached out with one gloved hand to pick up the mock phallus, wrapping her fingers around its base.

Varric, ever in his element regardless, continued to talk. “So, obviously, I got your measurements earlier so I could find the best size for the harness…” Cassandra was barely listening. It had not been so obvious to her, in any case. It was all starting to make sense now. Thank the Maker she had Varric to guide her in matters such as this. There was further rustling in the desk drawers, and out came what could only be described as a collection of curious straps, obviously geared towards holding something in the middle, flush against its wearer… oh.

Maker, had Andraste felt as hot on her pyre as Cassandra did right now? Somehow, she doubted it. 

“Aaand you’re ignoring me again.” The observation drew Cassandra’s attention back to her lover. Despite his words, he did not look angry. Simply amused. 

Still staring numbly at the contraption, Cassandra forced herself to speak. “You’re going to have to show me how to wear this,” she told him.

Was it her imagination, or did his eyes seem to darken? “Gladly,” he said, voice pitching lower as he walked around the desk, holding the harness. He paused as he stood before her, as though taking in her presence. “Although are you sure you don’t want dinner first?” He grinned.

Sweet Andraste, how could Varric think about food right now? It was the farthest consideration from her mind. Even knowing he had likely said the words solely to get a rise out of her, her lips narrowed all the same. “Very,” she said dryly.

Varric laughed. “All right, all right. Keep your pants on. Or, well, _don’t_. That would make things harder.”

She tried to let Varric help undress her, knowing he had a preference for doing so, but she was impatient all the same, tugging at her clothing and throwing it aside until she was bared before him, naked as the day she was born. She heard a hitch in his breath, and she narrowed her eyes at him in unspoken question.

“You’re beautiful,” Varric said softly, and Cassandra’s heart thudded in her chest once more. This was ordinarily the point where he would bury his face between her thighs, put that clever tongue to proper use. But today, she found she was not in the mood to receive such affections.

No, today, she wanted to be in control. She wanted that power, to make Varric squirm underneath beneath her. She tried to bite her tongue, but the words spilled out anyway. “And you’re testing my patience.”

Varric let out a huff of amusement. “I’ve heard you say plenty of worse things to me in more intimate moments,” he laughed, nudging her thighs with a hand, helping her to step into the straps. Once they were secured snug and tight against her body, Varric retrieved the phallus, securing it in place. It fit her well, although she figured she should not be too surprised. Varric _had_ gotten it commissioned.

If the mere idea had made her body feel as though it was fire, it did not compare to the actuality of what they were about to do. Varric was still woefully overdressed – not that didn’t mean she still couldn’t see a distracting amount of skin. She slipped her hands into the neckline of Varric’s shirt and he chuckled again. “Not gonna get it off that way,” he murmured, before tugging the shirt out of his pants and lifting it above his head.

She pushed him back towards the desk as she trailed her fingers through his chest hair, now able to touch instead of merely teasing. Varric sucked in a shallow breath as one of her fingers tweaked his nipple, and when she lifted her leg to press it against his groin, she was thrilled to find he was hard. Not that she expected he wouldn’t be, but … what if he only been humouring her? She swallowed her doubts down. This was not the time for hesitation.

“Cass,” groaned Varric, eyes fluttering shut at the contact. The noise made her heart beat just that little bit quicker. She knew he always liked it when she took control. “ _Cassandra_. Maker’s balls, you have no idea what effect you have on me, do you?”

Emboldened, she slipped a hand down to palm at his erection through his pants. She cocked an eyebrow, tilted her head. “I believe I might have some idea,” she said, before working on his belt with ruthless efficiency, getting the inconvenient clothing out of the way, pulling his smalls down to free his cock. The tip glistened with precome from his pent-up arousal, and ordinarily, Cassandra would do something about that, swipe it away, or perhaps even take him into her mouth.

Today, however, she barely paid it any passing attention, so focused was she on her goals. Instead, she left Varric’s side for a brief moment to retrieve the oil she knew he kept in his desk for moments like this, when they’d been apart for so long they could scarcely keep their hands off each other.

Varric cleared his throat, averted his gaze. “I, uh, prepared myself a bit earlier. If that’s alright.” It was the hesitation that gave Cassandra pause. She paused halfway through lubricating the new phallus jutting proudly from her hips.

“Of course.” If anything, the thought was arousing, thinking of her lover pressing his fingers into himself to make taking _her_ easier later on. She took a deep breath, tried her best to communicate clearly, humbled by the hesitation in Varric’s voice. “I am glad for it.”

He seemed to visibly relax, sagging against the edge of the desk. It was as though this simple action led to his next thought, which of course, he voiced aloud. “How did you want to do this?” he asked, and this time, there was no hesitation.

“Lie on your back,” Cassandra ordered and Varric obliged, sweeping his documents off the table and onto the floor. This part was at least familiar territory; Varric simply took up less space. It had made Cassandra self-conscious once upon a time, but no longer.

“Now what will you do with me?” Varric asked, and Cassandra snorted, shutting him up with a kiss. As they tangled together on the desk, Cassandra oiled her fingers and pressed them into his entrance, earning her a delightful hiss against her mouth as she moved inside him. Ordinarily, she could spend far more time like this, seeing which crook of her hand would cause her lover to make the most noises, but she had a more impressive tool at her disposal.

Once she pulled away, she looked Varric in the eyes and was taken aback by the sincerity of her smile. “I will take you,” she said simply, before checking, one last time, to be sure she hadn’t wildly misread the situation. “That is, if you are amenable.”

“Amenable?” choked out Varric. “I’ve been waiting for you to fuck me ever since you came through that door. Earlier, even –” He quieted immediately as she slid into him, inch by careful inch, revelling in the new sounds and the old, intermingled together in a breathy noisy chorus she found she liked more and more each time.

There was no hesitation in her mind any longer. Only trust.

*

There was barely enough room for the both of them on the desk in their aftermath, but they made do. Cassandra had pulled the harness and the phallus off so that she might be able to hold the weight of Varric’s body against her more easily. As he curled into her, she rested a hand against his thigh. “It occurred to me that I never said thank you,” she said.

Varric tilted his head to look back at her. Forehead creased, he answered, “You don’t have to say anything. We both wanted this, right?”

“Yes.” That answer came easily enough to her, but it was not all she wanted to say. She fumbled for the right words. Maker, how she wished she had Varric’s way with words in times like this! _Especially_ in times like this. “I simply….” She lost her nerve. “It is unimportant.”

His hand found hers. “It’s important to me,” he urged her gently.

She steeled her nerve. “I know it is not your intention,” she started, “it is an artefact of how our relationship started. How we met. Part of me was still … ” Concerned. Worried. Terrified. She let those words go unspoken. “… thinking this is all part of an elaborate joke.” That she was too harsh, too idealistic, too much of everything to be loved, by anyone, let alone Varric, who she had clashed with so often in those early cautious days of the Inquisition.

“Two years would be a hell of a commitment to a joke,” said Varric.

Cassandra smiled into his hair, pulled him closer. “I know,” she assured him. “I know. It is just… curiously, this evening has made me feel all the more certain.”

Varric’s eyes fluttered shut. “Me, too.”

She shook him gently. “We cannot sleep here. Can you imagine what your seneschal would say?”

“Let him say what he wants,” Varric grumbled, his voice heavy with sleep. “All I know, is that I’m grateful for Fonnek.”

She did not wish to disturb him when he looked so comfortable, so she let the matter drop. Perhaps next time, they would not have to communicate through a throwaway line in one of Varric’s books.

Perhaps next time, when she set out on the road again, she would treasure these moments the most, alongside the assurance she always had somewhere to return. 

She was loved.


End file.
